


heartache on the big screen

by noturno



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Idols, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bickering, Flirting, Idol Lee Jeno, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Producer Mark Lee, coming to terms with feelings, time to unleash jeno's obsession with mark!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noturno/pseuds/noturno
Summary: Whatever it is that makes the country obsess over Lee Jeno, Mark prays to dear God he doesn't catch it.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Mark Lee
Comments: 29
Kudos: 436
Collections: 99' ft 00' fic fest





	heartache on the big screen

**Author's Note:**

> #FT129  
>   
> i'm dropping hints that this is un-betaed and i am sleep deprived <3 thanks to tessie and mari for hearing me talk about this fic endlessly lol  
>   
> ps: mark is aged up in this fic!! he's a 97 liner :-) yay  
>   
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7m1uSMhSvn2H78WPPf4G4k?si=QZP92r6BQbCph6xMxnSUnQ)  
>   
> [black lives matter. here is how to support them.](https://moreblminfo.carrd.co/)

Objectively speaking, it takes Mark about five years to go from making beats for SoundCloud, using GarageBand in his brother's old computer, to having his own studio and a list of artists that would like to work with him.

It's not sheer talent – it's a whole lot of hard work. Hard work never ends, that's how it is for him, that's how it is for his brother, who's started all this when his group disbanded: a crew consisting of the country's top-notch producers, all from different backgrounds, all about different styles, all about bringing out the best of what their clients give them. Mark loves it here. Mark is proud to be here. Mark didn't get here by fooling around and looking pretty, which is--

"It's not _all_ we do," Donghyuck protests as he gives his freshly dyed locks a new round of hairspray. Mark supposes that the dyed mullet suits him – his whole image has always been a little bit like that, ever since he had signed his name onto a contract with the biggest company in the industry. Haechan is all about promises of glam rock looks, leather pants, glitter on his eyeshadow. That, and, well, the drugs – Mark flicks the ashes of a joint on top of a bunch of magazines that Donghyuck keeps in his room just because he likes to massage his own ego; they fall right on the O of 'VOGUE' and a bit on Donghyuck's eyebrow. "I do many things other than fool around."

"And looking pretty?"

"Don't be stupid, Minhyung," he replies, letting the can of hairspray fall to his feet, on top of the many clothes that he's tried already. "I always look pretty."

Mark nods as he takes a drag. He watches as Donghyuck crosses the room and pulls his window's curtains open wide, as if the world is his stage and it might as well be. This is the last night Mark is seeing him like this, he realizes. This is the last time they're Mark and Donghyuck, Donghyuck and Mark, sharing blunts and having pizzas delivered to the room.

Tomorrow, he thinks, tomorrow Donghyuck will be on the other side of the world and none of this will have mattered at all. It'll be history for him, for them, it'll be just another chapter in the book he'll continue writing alone. As Donghyuck goes through the metal box where he keeps his various rings, humming along to the tunes Mark had put on queue, the latter takes one last look at this room, at the clothes on the floor, at the pizza box and Donghyuck's guitar thrown over the bed.

He doesn't need to bother with moving boxes. Nothing around here is special enough, hence why they haven't been shipped beforehand last week – his manager, _ex-_ manager is going to come here tomorrow and he's going to pack half of it and the other half he's just going to throw away, and it's why Donghyuck is doing the absolute most tonight. Where he's going tomorrow, he won't need these stupid clothes. He'll have a brand new wardrobe, a brand new house, a brand new life.

And Mark isn't going to be there. He takes another drag, and another, and lets the smoke burn inside his lungs before exhaling. Donghyuck extends a hand for the joint and Mark gives it to him, watching as he takes a long drag himself.

"The Uber's gonna be here in ten," he tells him, and Mark nods. "I don't think I'll come back here later, but you can sleep over if you want."

"In this mess?" Mark laughs, gesturing to the rest of the room. Donghyuck rolls his eyes as he lets himself fall to the couch beside him – he's not saying it, but he'll miss this place too. He's going to miss this couch and the big window and how the sunlight hits the furniture just right at 3:43 pm. Mark just knows it. He's known Donghyuck for too long not to know that. "No, thank you. Is, what's his name again… Oh, is _Ong_ going to drive you to the airport tomorrow? Kiss you for one last time, a tearful goodbye?"

Donghyuck scoffs. His glittery shirt gleams as his chest moves, he pats his stomach absentmindedly. "As if. I'm moving countries, not dying. He'll buy a fucking plane ticket if he wants to keep seeing me, it's not my problem."

Mark hums in agreement. The joint is too small now, they can barely hold it, and he burns his fingers trying to take one last drag, and frowns as he notices Donghyuck fidgeting with one of his fingers, too quiet for his own good. "What's up, buttercup?"

"I have something to say," Donghyuck replies, looking up at him, and Mark nods for him to continue. "You're my best friend. Say you know that."

"I know that. Is that all?"

"No. So, since you're my best friend, do me a favor. You can't say no."

Mark grimaces. He puts out the joint on the cover of Donghyuck's magazine.

"Do me one last favor, Minhyung," and before he can agree, Donghyuck adds: "Okay, there's this friend of mine that--"

Letting out a laugh, Mark starts looking for his shoes under all that mess. "I'm not interested in dating anyone right now."

Donghyuck lets out a groan as he gets up from the couch, stretching his back. "God, you're so full of yourself," Mark scoffs, successfully fishing his sneakers from under at least five different bomber jackets, and Donghyuck continues: "You know him from SM. My age, was a big thing in Produce a couple years ago, ranked the highest until he sprained his knee, remember him? Had white hair and all at that time."

Mark shrugs, not really interested in the conversation to fully engage in trying to remember, but the topic doesn't sound unfamiliar to him. "Vaguely. And… ?"

"And--" Donghyuck adds, clearly more agitated as he obsessively fixes his hair before checking the time on his phone. "He's going to debut this year. It's a big thing, everyone's got his eyes on him. I think you should work with him-- no, I _urge_ you to work with him, Minhyungie."

Letting out a laugh, Mark gets up. For Donghyuck to use words such as "urge", he must really be interested in this, and then he raises a hand up in the air and rubs his thumb and index finger together. "I'll work with rookies again when SM gives me more _plata_ for it. I've had my share of emotional distress with you."

"But would you look at where that emotional distress got us!"

Which isn't far from the truth. As they get ready to leave, suddenly Mark is nineteen once more and staring at Donghyuck on the other side of the recording booth making funny faces at him, who's already pulling together a beat. It's 3 am as it was back then, and they had nothing to lose, they never did. The first steps of a staircase that could only go up, up and up.

Sheer luck, some would say. Not on Mark's opinion, no. Haechan might have been SM's golden boy since rookie days, when he was nothing more than the maknae of Mark's brother's own group, with cheeks this big and a voice able to make the whole world melt, but he's always known Donghyuck was born for greatness. It was just a matter of time.

Then again, it's a pity he's leaving to the States, moving into an apartment lot in Los Angeles big enough for him and the bright future he has ahead. Mark rubs a hand against his face, prone to ruining the makeup Donghyuck had put effort into doing, and comments: "Why are you trying to hand me over to another guy, anyway? Feeling bad you're ditching me for the north-americans?"

Donghyuck rolls his eyes as he unlocks his door for the last time. When tonight's party is over and real life becomes a thing once again, it'll be a whole new life for him. He seems as ready as ever. "He's like a brother to me," he replies, quite serious for his stoned estate. "Like, seriously. We were trainees together, he was supposed to debut with me, TY and the guys, but--" he gestures vaguely, almost hitting Mark in the process, who leans back with a grunt. "Sorry. It's just that you know how hard things can be. You _know._ If you take care of him, it's going to mean the world to me."

"I ain't babysitting a grown up," Mark replies, patting at the pockets of his jacket just to make sure he didn't leave his wallet back there. Once they're good, they head to the elevator. "I'm just a producer."

Donghyuck flashes him a teasing smile, nudging him on the ribs with an elbow. "Nooooo, you're _the_ producer. If I'm here today, if I got that solo, it was because of you. I want you to do the same for him."

Mark rolls his eyes. He hates it when Donghyuck exaggerates – he would've been given a solo anyway. For the short time that NCT U existed, there wasn't a single day in which Mark wouldn't video call his brother and Taeyong wouldn't talk about how their maknae was set for the big things. The big stuff, the bright stuff. All in all, Mark knows that everyone in that temporary unit had hit it big in life later: Donghyuck and his solo promotions, Taeyong as a top-notch producer, Yuta off to debut as a duo with another trainee and make it billboard big in China, Taeil and his own solo projects as an alternative artist, etc and all. But Donghyuck was-- he's always been something else. It wasn't because of Mark's song, it was just a matter of time.

Try telling him that, though. Mark lets out a long as he fidgets with the hem of his own jacket. "You flatter me. Maybe send me something of his and I'll see what I can do. It's not like I'll walk in there and they'll hand me his album."

Donghyuck snorts. He checks his makeup on the elevator's mirror before the door opens with a bing!, and they're off to the night. "Honey, remember the name: Lee-Je-no. He just needs some polishing; make him glow. Promise?"

He raises a hand, pinky finger up in the air. Mark will surely regret this later, but he hooks his own finger on Donghyuck's.

//

"You sure about that?" Taeyong asks as he raises his phone in the air, waving it teasingly. "I'm sure there's a whole line of producers wanting to work with him."

To which Mark replies, firmly: "I want him. Get him for me, consider it a late birthday gift."

Shouldn't be so difficult. Shouldn't be difficult _at all,_ because if Taeyong was SM's golden boy once, his word is law, so all Mark needs to do is wait. He leans his back against the wall as Taeyong dials the number and his newest project is here, at Mark's arm's reach. He closes his eyes and thinks of the Youtube playlist he found two days before containing Lee Jeno's best moments from that survival show, a couple of other older stuff where he's still got a child's full cheeks but the moves of a real dancer, and that's it. Mark is going to give him a triple crown. Mark is going to give him Rookie of the Year, he can even go for Album of the Year if competition ain't too tough, but Mark trusts himself.

"Alright," Taeyong declares as he sets his phone down on the table. He's not even looking up from his own work, something for a solo artist that Mark really likes by the way, and he tries to take a peek but Taeyong pushes him away playfully. "They'd like to have a meeting with you, let's say, two days from now. The manager said he'd call. Are you sure about that, though?"

Mark snorts: "Why wouldn't I be?"

Taeyong scratches his chin in deep thought. "Well, I thought you didn't want to work with idols anymore. Remember that one--" he snaps his fingers. "I can't remember, the rapper with peach hair? I thought he traumatized you."

"No, he didn't traumatize," Mark replies matter-of-factly. "I'm not going to stop working because I had a fling and it didn't work out. I'm over it, it's been years."

"A fling with a client," Taeyong points out. "You were very upset. I wouldn't want to see you like that again."

Mark knows that Taeyong is only saying that to tease him – his brother has a very weird sense of humor, he thinks. But, still, something in his chest feels uncomfortably tight. "Just because I want to work with a new guy doesn't mean I'd like to fuck him, Taeyong," he says, and Taeyong grimaces at his crude words. And it's only because Taeyong is his brother, only because Mark trusts him more than anything, only because they've got each other's back, that he adds: "Dating idols is messy and you know it. I ain't going there again. It could be Chungha and I wouldn't go there again. I swear on our mom."

Letting out a chuckle, Taeyong clicks play on his song. As Doyoung's vocals echo in the room, he adds: "I see. She's not going to be happy with such an empty promise. Have you called her recently?"

Mark grimaces, pushing himself off the wall. "For her to complain about how skinny I look? No, thank you, maybe near Christmas. And, by the way, I think the bridge would sound better with a bit more bass."

Taeyong raises an eyebrow at him, and Mark raises one right back at him. When he turns around again to do exactly as Mark had said, the latter smiles proudly at himself as he turns to leave.

//

The thing about the idols Mark works with — the ones that _actually_ work with him, that don't leave him to do the magic and thank him in tiny letters on an album after months of only contacting each other through their managers — is that he enjoys watching them.

It's almost like going to the zoo. The first time he's seen Huang Renjun curse out loud, Mark was shocked — it's not what you'd expect from China's favorite. He thinks it's funny and quite sad, the thing about keeping an image up. And then they have two hours before managers come back from lunch break, and it's like sitting there in a coffee shop or in Mark's studio flicks a switch in their heads, it's a whole different thing. They simply _change._

Taeyong says that's quite rude of him to think about it like that, but what's the problem if Mark keeps those thoughts to himself? It's not like he's going to point it out to anyone. He'd point it out to Taeyong, maybe, because of all the years in which he's watched his brother put on a face and do whatever his managers told him to until he could do his own thing. Anyways, Mark gets it, the thing about keeping an image, and he likes to see it undone, which is precisely why he enjoys this:

"Thank you so much for being here," says Jeno in his spotless clothes and perfect tousled black hair, fingers crossed over the table of the place they'd agreed to have lunch. He's _so--_ he knows every move he makes, from the way he draped his coat over the back of his chair to the way he holds a glass of water, cut from marble down to his fingernails. It's quite impressive to look at, it's like watching a movie for Mark. "I really admire your work, PD-nim."

"Well, thanks for that," he replies, because he wasn't raised in a barn, but Mark makes a gesture for him to cut it. "You don't have to be so formal, though. I'm not going to eat you."

Jeno lets out a chuckle, muttering something under his breath that Mark doesn't understand. He raises his eyebrows and Jeno smiles at him cheerily. "So! We're working together. I assume Ten has sent you the files already?"

Mark nods as he takes a sip of his beer. This hole-in-the-wall restaurant isn't crowded, he's found them a table at the back where no one is going to pay attention, and he thinks of the song demos that Jeno's manager had sent him a week before. "How about you tell me what you expect?"

Two hours pass in a heartbeat. The food is good, Jeno actually has good ideas for his album and Mark just can't wait to make them even better, but by the time Mark pays for their lunch as a treat, Jeno hasn't let out the tiniest hint of an actual personality behind his idol persona, and Mark can't say he's not disappointed at himself. He'll have to work harder for it, then.

//

"He's _not_ a robot," Donghyuck protests over the phone. It's a whole sixteen hours of difference between Seoul and Los Angeles, or so Mark has heard, but since he never really sleeps, he doesn't mind calling Donghyuck late at night. "You're so fucking mean. You didn't think that of me back when we were younger, did you? I can't believe you were, like, fifteen and thinking shit about little twelve year old me. Asshole."

"No, because you're my best friend," Mark replies as he tries to find a Netflix movie to watch. "If I thought you could be mistaken for a piece of bread, I wouldn't befriend you."

Donghyuck sighs. "You met him _once,_ Jesus. He's bullshitting with you, did you know that? Jeno is nothing like what he pulls off in front of cameras."

Mark raises his eyebrows, humming accordingly as he clicks on the new season of On My Block and watches as it loads. Now that's some interesting information. "Is that so?"

"Uhum," and Donghyuck lets out a laugh as someone calls for him on his side of the line. He mutters something in English under his breath and Mark is not paying much attention, so he doesn't catch it, but soon enough Donghyuck switches back to Korean: "I have to go. Call me when Jeno knocks you off your high horse, I'd love to hear about it. You have no idea what you're in for!"

Mark rolls his eyes as the call ends, and he lets the phone fall to the mattress and stares at himself through the paused screen. In a sense, it is comforting to know that Jeno might not be as boring as he supposedly pretends to be – and then it is a bit intriguing, because Mark just can't wait to see what'll make him crack. He presses play.

//

"You don't actually need to come here, you know that, right?"

Jeno looks at him with eyes the size of the Moon, like a kicked puppy. It's been almost a month of this and there's something about him that irritates Mark _just_ slightly, aside from the nation's boyfriend concept of course, and yet he can't quite put his finger on it. Must be the way he's so very eager to please everyone, as proven by the way he's brought coffee to everyone in the studio. Which means he's very eager to please Mark too, so there's also that.

Mark is not above bajulation, but something about Jeno's eyes make him feel a little weird. He would be very pleased if he was left alone. It's been like that with many idols, sometimes he doesn't even meet them personally. He suddenly regrets giving the studio's address to Jeno's manager, but figures that this is something he could've found on Google anyway. Where can I find Mad Dog Studio? And bingo, he's there thanks to the algorithm. Can't run away from the mortifying ideal of being known, Mark realizes.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing," Jeno replies finally, and Mark steps out of the way from the doorstep so he can walk into his room, and Jeno does so happily. "Such a nice studio you got, hyung. Everyone else is just so cool too,"

"Why, thank you," Mark closes the door behind himself. It _is_ a very weird thing to see Jeno inside his designated studio, he doesn't really look like he belongs there.

That and, well, the fact that he clearly hasn't been inside a lot of studios – Mark watches as he inspects the shelves full of CD's and books, the plants Mark keeps here, his MIDI controllers with almost child-like curiosity. God, that's it, maybe. Everything about him simply screams _look at me, I'm shaped to be the nation's boyfriend, I'll bring your daughter home by 10!,_ and Mark doesn't know how people keep buying that shit. He wishes, for once, that companies would look for some more authenticity while creating their idol's personas. Suddenly, he can't stop looking at Jeno's perfectly fitting baby blue sweater.

Does he not get tired of it? Does he not want to go apeshit once in a while? God. Most of the days, Mark would rather shoot himself than be an idol.

And then, of course, Jeno looks back at him in expectation. Oh, right. Mark swallows his judgement because he's read it somewhere that it makes you age faster and gestures to his computer. "I was going to go over your demos today. I haven't really started yet, just been messing with some beats. Do you want--" God, is he really going to say this? He taps the back of one of the chairs by his desk. "--to stay here and watch?"

Jeno's face lights up like Christmas lights as he nods and takes a seat.

//

Around a month into the job, Mark still has no idea what Jeno's game is.

Which means, precisely, that he's pretty sure Donghyuck was fucking with him when he said Jeno had a personality. Mark is _sure_ he has none at all; he's just like the ultimate version of the perfect idol, shaped to obedience, everything about him simply screams that. It's both tiring and a bit annoying to watch, Mark realizes as he rubs his temples, playing one of Jeno's tracks once more.

Jeno's album consists of eleven songs total, which is more than Mark would expect for a rookie to have, but he supposes it's what the public wants. In the past month, he's collected every information he could get about who the fuck is Lee Jeno, anyway. Mark knew he hit it big in Produce and fell behind because of a knee injury, but he had no idea just how big Jeno's _fanbase_ is. He gets birthday ads in the biggest subway stations ever since he was a mere rookie, he only did not debut in Produce because he had sprained his knee before the final ranking, his Twitter account has more followers than most of debuted idols Mark knows.

And then again, why, because Jeno has the emotional depth of a teaspoon. He's as interesting as a pebble in the street at best, and maybe he's hiding something under his collection of cream colored trench coats. But then again, it's not his place to doubt Jeno's potential to be the next big thing ever since Haechan left everything behind to hit it big on the land of Beyoncé. Mark knows more than anyone that the music industry is but a chain production of who's going to make the most today and who's going to make the most tomorrow, crushing young people's dreams to ashes, making their skin go from porcelain to steel. It's not a curse of the East, far from that, Mark knows that every kind of critic regarding the South Korean music industry that comes from the West is not above a high dose of Orientalism – no difference between Seoul and Los Angeles in that matter. The system doesn't make it easier for anyone, no matter where you're from or where you're going. It has no qualms about capitalizing dreams and it never will, and then again, isn't Mark inside this, too?

He sighs, the sudden chain of thought giving him a light headache. If he is to continue pitying Jeno for being the next slaughter pig, Mark will have to hoard enough Advil for a lifetime. He gets up and takes a little walk around the studio instead.

//

"You laid low for a while, didn't you? When you had your injury."

Jeno shrugs as he brings a cup of tea to his lips. He likes that. He likes drinking tea – Mark, for one, envies the fact that he doesn't need high doses of coffee to exist in the morning. He found out Jeno is all about a very natural way of living, likes organic stuff, works out because he likes to and not because people make him do it. _And doesn't drink coffee._ It's actually a bit terrifying.

"I didn't think I'd come back," Jeno admits. "To the idol life, I mean. Thought of going to college, I don't know, it was an option. I was afraid I'd end up hurting myself for real if I came back."

"Why did you, then? Wouldn't it be..." Mark hums as he thinks. "Safer for you? To let go of it?"

He can see Jeno's face through the screen of the computer as he sits on the couch, knees pressed to his chest, and he makes a funny face at Mark, snorting softly. "Isn't it obvious? I love music. I can't be away from it too much, there's nothing I would rather be doing. It's what keeps me grounded, and I'm sure it'll bring me anywhere I want to if I keep that passion going."

He's so honest in that moment, so genuine that it throws Mark off guard for a moment, and he pretends to be busy with finding a file in his computer only so that it won't show. "I guess--" he comments. "We have more in common than I thought, then."

//

There's an ad for the perfume brand of the moment right outside the subway station nearest to Mark's place.

He never looks at it, truly, is always far more interested in trying to find his metro ticket because surely there is an universal rule that says you will lose what you're looking for and don't you forget it, so Mark never looks at it. But as he steps out of the station with Lucas, pulling his coat tighter against his body and wondering why they didn't catch an Uber from Dejun's place, Mark looks up and stares at Jeno's face, staring back at him.

It startles him. He looks around to see if someone had noticed and Lucas looks at him frowning, and he turns back to the way Jeno is raising an eyebrow at the camera and grinning like this is supposed to make you want to buy this perfume bottle just because there's a pretty man on the ad, and fuck it, Mark would, he realizes in horror. He'd buy the fucking perfume. What is he _doing?_

"I think I'm going insane," he tells Lucas, scooting closer to his body as they start walking because it's just so cold, and sighs in relief when Lucas throws an arm around his shoulders.

"Why is that, Markie boy?" he asks. He's having fun with this. He points at the ad: "Hey, isn't this the guy you're working with? Damn.

"Exactly," Mark replies, looking back to frown at the ad once more. "Something's off. He doesn't look like that in real life."

"Yeah, because it's Photoshopped. No one has that skin."

No, Jeno _has_ that skin. He has the best skin Mark has ever seen. But that's not the point – Jeno doesn't look like that for reasons other than Photoshop's wonders. It's because he simply isn't like that, doesn't wear clothes like those, doesn't smile like that, his overall vibe isn't like that.

 _An evil twin!,_ Mark realizes. He drank a bit at Dejun's, admittedly, and Jeno must have an evil twin who is the hotter version of him, because why wouldn't the evil twin wear shirts unbuttoned, smile teasingly at the camera and be, in general, sexier than the boring, good twin? It's just the way it always is.

He voices that to Lucas. Lucas pats his head with a hand: "Don't go having ideas, Mark."

Mark is not having ideas. He just simply isn't blind, thank the good Lord and for fuck's sake, amen, y'all.

//

Yeah. Well. Whatever it is that makes the country obsess over Lee Jeno, Mark prays to dear God that he doesn't catch it.

//

Jeno's number five track is Mark's favorite.

The lyrics are pretty good, the arrangement is one of the best in the album, and Mark is almost satisfied with how the mixing part is turning out to be.

So, obviously, he's not going to let Jeno ruin it for him.

"I'm not putting those adlibs," Mark tells him for the fiftieth time today. Turns out they both can be very stubborn when they want to – he's cracking Jeno open like a delicate shell, bit by bit. He'd like to be vegan. He is a Sagittarius moon. He doesn't like it when Mark contrariates him but he seems to be pushing at Mark's button for fun, which is simply--

"Why? I think they're great. Would add a nice touch to it."

Fucking infurating. It's fucking infuriating, Mark admits to himself. He promised Taeyong he wouldn't argue, but here they are: "Because they suck, that's why. I truly believe this should be the title song, if I put those adlibs, no one is going to think that. They're going to think it's shit, Jeno. Is that what you want?"

Jeno's bottom lip juts out. That's another thing that irritates Mark to another astral plane – he's probably not used to being told "no", and when Mark tells him "no", he does this. He must know he looks really cute while doing it, it must be a move practiced to perfection in front of the mirror, but it won't get a reaction out of Mark other than pure rage. He looks the other way as Jeno lets out a whiny "Hyung, do you _really_ think they'd think that?"

Mark sighs, fumbling with his program for a while before he asks, simply: "Do you trust me?"

He looks at Jeno for emphasis matters, and Jeno looks back at him. He was wearing a stupid cream turtleneck today and, under it, a Mindseeker tee. Not all is lost. Mark repeats: "Do. You. Trust. Me?"

"Of course I do," Jeno replies softly.

"Then those adlibs are not going _anywhere_ near this track."

Surprisingly, instead of arguing, Jeno nods at his words. Then again, there's that little weird feeling Mark gets whenever he looks at him in the eyes – but he has a name for it now. Sometimes, when Jeno looks at him, his face is that of someone who's always on the verge of saying something and perpetually stopping themselves from doing so. A tantalizing action for himself.

And if it doesn't entertain the fuck out of Mark, as much as it intrigues him. He flashes Jeno a bright smile before going back to work.

//

The screen of Mark's computer is at full brightness as he squints to see, knowing full well this will only aggravate his already aggravated state of myopia, but he simply cannot go back to sleep now. He woke up with an idea, and he won't stop until it's perfect.

That's what was missing on track 7. _He's_ almost there – soon enough Jeno's debut will go from paper to every fan's screen, he's even talked to Mark about the creative team's ideas for an MV –, and Mark can almost taste an album of the year.

Admittedly, he didn't expect it to be this good. Sometimes all the mixing in the world isn't enough to turn coal into a diamond, but Jeno's team exceeded his expectations. Jeno exceeded his expectations. Mark tries not to think much about it because he's pretty sure that if he thinks about Jeno two times too many, he will appear by Mark's bedside and ask _really, hyung, really?_

But Jeno is a pretty good songwriter, and a pretty good performer, and a pretty good person to have around. For security reasons, Mark takes a look around the room to know he's still alone. He then clicks "save" and, in a spike of adrenaline, he texts Jeno: _you're sooooooooooo going to worship the ground i walk on when you listen to 'nineteen' kekekeke_

The reply is there almost immediately, which startles Mark and he almost lets the phone fall to the floor. Jeno writes: _never doubted you for a second, hyung ;)_

//

"Since you're halfway done," Jeno says as they walk through one of the corridors in SM's main building – Mark hasn't been here in so long. Taeyong was still in 127 back then. He looks over at Jeno with raised eyebrows; he has no idea how Jeno found out he was having a meeting with his creative team. Mark is sure he has more important things to worry about. "We should have dinner together."

Mark hums. "Are you trying to buy me with food so that I will put unnecessary adlibs in the remaining songs?"

Jeno lets out a laugh like it's the best thing he's heard all day – another thing about him. It's not difficult to make Jeno laugh, which at first would probably sell him as very stupid, but it's rather endearing, Mark thinks. He finds joy in the littlest things, like Mark's snarky remarks about him. Sometimes, when he tries to joke back, Mark will even indulge him a little. "Oh, no, hyung," he replies, which is a pity because Mark would easily let himself be bought with food. "I meant having dinner as a date."

Mark stops dead on his track, the engines inside his head breaking down momentaneously. "A date?" he repeats. "You and I? Date?"

Jeno nods. He's got his hands on the pockets of his hoodie – this is the most "normal" Mark has seen him before. He must be fresh out of practice, hair slicked back instead of the usual fringe, he's got Adidas sweatpants on, and he's asking Mark out on a date, as if they're just two random guys from college.

He can't possibly be serious. Mark's gaydar has never failed him before, but then again, it must be because it took Jeno three months to start behaving like a normal human being. He snorts. "Well, here's a funny little fact about me, then," Mark replies. "I don't do my clients. Not at all."

Jeno doesn't miss a beat. "But you should do me," he responds with an innocent smile on his lips. "I've been told I'm quite the catch."

Ah, he must be. If Mark looked like this, he would, too. He nods, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

"Not happening. I don't do clients and you shouldn't do producers, okay? This isn't how it is supposed to go."

Jeno stares at him with intensity, perfect eyebrows angled in a way that tells Mark he's just being a brat. That's new. That's a thing to be added onto the little notebook of Jeno's rotations. "Should it go like what, then? Enlighten me, hyung."

Mark can't even begin to explain, and he shouldn't need to. The last time he let a pretty boy woo him, they both ended up very frustrated over a lot of misunderstandings and schedule incompatibility. He's not going there again, not even if it is a harmless dinner night with this… _This--_

"I'm going to finish mixing your album soon," he tells Jeno, no, he _promises_ him. "You'll have your debut somewhere in the following two months, and then you're off on tour, and you'll forget about me and I will forget about you. This--" Mark gestures between the two of them. "Just ain't it. You're a nice guy, but that's just how it is. Aside from that, how old are you again?"

Jeno rolls his eyes. He's got some resilience, Mark will give him that – he was supposed to go home and lick his wounds five minutes ago –, and he patiently waits for a bunch of overexcited rookies to run past them to say: "If that's the case, then I will stop being your client soon, so we can go out when that happens. I'll give you a two weeks notice to prepare yourself if that eases your heart. And I'm turning twenty in April, it's _barely_ three years of difference."

Crossing his arms, Mark ponders how he's going to debate a heartbreak out of Jeno. He's never been through this before. "You think you're very smart, don't you?"

Jeno flashes him a teasing grin as he nods. He even takes one step forward, forcing Mark to back himself against the wall. "Are you surprised?" he asks slowly. "Don't be, hyung, not too much. It'd hurt my feelings."

Luckily, another batch of rookies is making their merry little way through the corridor, so Jeno simply turns around and pretends to have been leaning his back against the wall the entire time. He watches as the rookies pass by, and Mark watches him in total disbelief.

Evil twin. That's it. Somewhere in this building, good twin Jeno is wondering if he'll bring donuts or scones to the studio next time he drops by, the poor guy.

"So?" Jeno asks as he turns his head in his direction, eyes gleaming with fun. "Have you made up your mind yet?"

Mark rolls his eyes, pushes himself off the wall and starts to walk, Jeno following close. " _You_ are actually _out_ of _your_ mind. I didn't even know you liked guys."

"I've liked guys all my life," Jeno declares rather proudly. "And I've liked you since day one, hyung, don't worry."

Mark sighs exasperatedly. He deserves it. He really does. They're soon reaching a door that will lead Mark to his freedom and he just can't wait to go on with his life without having to worry over the fact that silly little Lee Jeno has got a crush on him, which is probably the worst decision he has ever made in life. And Mark can almost _taste_ that freedom, but before he can reach out and push at the door's bars to set himself free, Jeno timidly curls his fingers around his wrist and pulls slightly.

"Hyung," he calls in a small voice. "Hyung, are you mad at me?"

Mark _stares_ at where their skins are touching. He's pretty sure Jeno has never touched him before and he hasn't touched Jeno either, and Mark's eyes trail from that to his face. "Just seriously forget about me, Jeno," he tells him rather softly, surprising even himself. "It'll be better for you, alright? It's fine as it is, let's just go on with what we have right now. It's not a good time."

With a sigh of relief, Jeno nods and lets go of him. Mark's skin burns at where he's touched it, he discreetly touches his wrist with a finger to make sure those aren't actual burn marks. Maybe Jeno is not an evil twin but a witch, or something like that. Mark nods at him too, and turns to open the doors.

//

"Jeno sorta asked me out earlier today."

"Sorta, huh," Lucas hums as he tries to be a show off cutting onions really quick. Nevermind he has watery eyes. "Elaborate on that?"

Mark shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. Technically, he should be home working on Jeno's album, but then again, Jeno should be home not asking him out. It's just how things are. "He said, like, let's have dinner as a date! And I was like hell no, and he tried to debate me into going out with him and I tried to debate him into not doing that, and in the end I just told him to forget about it."

Sitting by his side on Lucas' kitchen stools, Na Jaemin whistles loudly. "Meanie," he comments. "But a very dumb meanie. If I were you, I would simply go out with Lee Jeno and worry about it in the morning only."

Mark rolls his eyes. Of course. He didn't expect anything else from Jaemin. "I don't do my clients," he repeats, and a tape of Jeno saying _but you should do me_ replays in his head over and over like he's a broken VHS player or something. Admittedly, Mark dreamed about it last night. Admittedly, he woke up in not so pleasing circumstances. "Mixing work and personal life is a huge mistake, if you ask me. I'll be caught dead before I do that for a bright smile and a nice pair of legs."

"He has a nice pair of legs, then?" Lucas laughs, offering Jaemin a fun smile. "We're getting somewhere here, huh?"

Mark groans: "It's a figure of speech, have you two ever heard of that? God."

Besides, he wouldn't know. Mark has ever seen Jeno wear something different from jeans or khakis. He supposes that skinny jeans did look nice that one time--

He grimaces. "Oh," Jaemin comments, nudging him on the ribs. "Mr. Figure-of-Speech is thinking about it. He's thinking about Lee Jeno's long, sinewy legs."

"Who the fuck says 'sinewy', Jaemin? Get a fucking grip."

Mark regrets even coming here tonight. Fuck it that it's the first time Jaemin has been in the country in months, busy with a job he's got on the production of a foreign movie. Sometimes, Mark wonders where audio engineering would have taken him if he hadn't dropped out of his major – maybe he'd go from studying with Jaemin to _working_ with Jaemin. Sure, sure, perhaps Mark would want to quit every week, but a part of him does miss hanging out with his only friend from college time.

He's sure Lucas misses it too. He probably misses it more than Mark. Mark is not going to say shit, but he _should,_ judging by the way Lucas has taken a liking into teasing him for acknowledging Lee Jeno as an attractive human being.

Mark rolls his eyes at the thought and gets up from his spot to get another beer.

//

Objectively speaking, it takes Mark two months and twenty seven days exactly to finally say that he knows a little more about Jeno than those "profile updated" accounts on AminoApps. The list goes on and on: he's good looking, he's funny when he's not trying to be, he loves cats, he does have an emotional depth bigger than a teaspoon, and he knows how to dress up for parties.

The last part is eating Mark from the inside the entire uber ride to Eric something's party in a ballroom downtown.

_Hey, hyung, a friend of mine is throwing a beginning of the year party! I was wondering if you wanted to go with me, it'd be really nice if you did--_

Moron. Jeno is a moron if he believes Mark wants to party on a Thursday when he has work tomorrow morning, another album to produce, another client to please. It isn't because Mark is dying to go to this Eric something's party. It is because of the motherfucking ripped jeans.

"Have you been here before?" Jeno asks him as they walk inside the club. Mark hasn't because he doesn't hang out in the same places Jeno does, but he lets out a non-committal sound instead of voicing his own opinions. He's still thinking about the jeans. Maybe, now that Jeno has finished filming his MV teasers, he will move onto a new step of his idol life. They'll choose another concept for him, and in the meantime, he dresses well.

Mark wasn't ready for that. He could never be ready for that, he muses to himself as Jeno walks in front of him to greet someone, and Mark lets himself stare at the way Jeno's jeans are ripped right below the swell of his ass for _two_ seconds, and it's enough for him to go looking for drinks alone. Shit.

"Hello! What can I get for you?" asks the girl behind the counter. Mark decides against knocking himself out because he'd like to have a little fun today, so he orders a gin tonic for starters, and sips on it as he watches the party unfold.

He must admit, when Donghyuck was here, Mark was _all_ about idol parties. Since his second favorite hobby is watching the way people can detach themselves from their personas when they're in a safe place, and how that action is amplified by tequila, he's always loved going to them. Loved dancing all night with Donghyuck and meeting up with a few idol acquaintances too, it really used to be a pleasing experience all the time, and Mark _wants_ to have a pleasing experience tonight.

"Oh, there you are," Jeno says as he walks closer, smiling at Mark under the stroboscopic lights. There's something really funny about the way he looks now that Mark knows he ain't no brainless doll, like a switch has been flicked over and Mark can't connect him to shy, soft spoken Jeno from the beginning, unless it is to point out just how much he prefers this version. "Running away from me, hyung?"

Mark rolls his eyes, taking another sip of his drink, something stronger now. He'd offer it to Jeno but doesn't know anything about how well he handles alcohol, it's better not to risk it.

"Why did you invite me, anyway?" he asks instead. As Jeno opens his mouth to reply, Mark adds: "Cut the bullshit, you have tons of friends. Why?"

Jeno then shrugs. The way he does it, his silk dress shirt moves like it's made of water – it's insane. Mark tries to force himself to look away but can't. "You and I are friends, we're having fun," he says, and Mark raises his eyebrows. He supposes they are friends and they're having fun, then. "C'mon, hyung, don't be such a party pooper!"

Mark raises both hands in surrender – his drinks spill a little down his arm, how great, and Jeno lets out a giggle as he finds a place for himself by Mark's side, leaning against the counter as well. "I didn't even say anything," Mark protests at last. His eyes scan the dancefloor, wondering if he's going to find a familiar face tonight. He used to have a lot of fun with Donghyuck's friends.

"But you thought about it,"

"Oh, yeah?" Mark hums, turning to look at him. "And what did I think of, if you know all about what goes on in my head?"

The left corner of Jeno's mouth perks up and he taps his cheek as if he's in deep thought. Mark notices that he's got very faint eye makeup on. "You were thinking of making fun of me--" he fakes a sob, pretending to wipe a tear from his face. "--For going after you even after you turned me down."

Mark raises his eyebrows, amused. He sets his empty glass down on the counter. "Oh, so you admit going after me even after I turned you down?" he asks. "Many would say that persistence is a total lack of respect for people's wishes."

"And what would _you_ say, hyung?"

Mark shrugs nonchalantly, facing forward so that he won't have to look at Jeno's teasing grin. "Just do whatever you want. Break your own heart if you want. I think it's kind of cute, actually."

At that, Jeno lets out a laugh. He pats Mark's arm momentaneously while he's at it, and Mark is left staring at where he's just touched for a split second as Jeno responds: "I'm not breaking my own heart. It ain't like that for me, hyung."

Mark nods. He orders another drink and Jeno does the same, and then he asks: "How's it like for you, then? Didn't take you for a no strings attached type of guy."

For a moment, Jeno's confident facade falters as he lets out an awkward laugh – suddenly, he's nothing different from those times he sat on Mark's couch and asked again and again if they could order pizza, maybe. The memory is also enough to pull Mark himself back to reality, and he leans away, realizing their shoulders were almost touching.

"I'm not, usually," Jeno replies after a while, sipping on his drink, "But, for you, I'd be that guy. What do you think, hyung? Just for tonight?"

Mark lets out a laugh. "You wish."

//

Which brings us all back to the way Jeno can never take "no" for an answer.

Alright, alright, maybe the source of the problem is the fact that Mark hasn't said "no", at least not with that word exactly. But that's because he simply thought Jeno would move on soon – he does have a very short attention span, Mark's noticed. And there are plenty of fish in the sea, especially for someone like Jeno, who could have anyone he ever wanted.

"Except for you, hyung," he replies matter-of-factly, flashing Mark a sweet smile as they take the elevator to Mark's studio's floor. "I admit it, I kind of like the chase."

"You're so annoying, did you know that?" Mark asks him, genuinely. "What was that down there, huh? You trying to publicly embarrass me for not wanting to sleep with you? I'm being _professional_ , you should try it sometime."

"I would never do that. If it's about being professional, if I wasn't your client, _would_ you sleep with me, yes or no?"

Mark is not going to reply to that, wishing for once that the elevator would simply fall all the way to Hell. He's come to realize, in horror, that the thing about Jeno's contrasting personalities is, simply, Mark himself. If he were to cease existing altogether, maybe Jeno would know how to act like a normal human being, but since Mark is made of matter and can be seen and perceived about other beings that are made of matter, Jeno _will_ cause trouble because _and_ for him.

"You're off in here, did you know that?" Mark accuses him, poking the side of Jeno's head with a finger as the elevator's doors open. "You can't simply say shit like that or flirt with me in front of my brother. There are societal rules that prohibit siblings from being in that kind of situation. And what if anyone heard you, recorded it and exposed you?"

Jeno shrugs. "We die like men, I guess."

On God. _On God_. Maybe the thing about Jeno is that he realized it's really funny to pull at Mark's imaginary pigtails, especially now that he knows it leaves him mad. And Mark, poor Mark has nothing to do other than sigh at himself and go back to work, trying to ignore the fact that he's invited a snake into his own studio.

No, not a snake. He feels sort of bad talking shit about Jeno now – Mark supposes the heart does grow fond. When Jeno is not being a mess, he's really sweet. Mark starts looking for his keys in one of the pockets of his bag. The _image_ of meeting Jeno by the building's entrance repeats in his mind like his own brain is trying to punish him. _Hey there, handsome, come here often? Did it hurt when you fell from--_

"Don't you have practice to attend?" Mark asks him as he opens the door. "How are you going to debut if you're stuck in here with me all day?"

"I skipped practice. Ten doesn't know I'm here."

They're simply not paying Mark enough for this. He sighs as Jeno giggles, and they both reach to turn on the lights. Mark retreats his hand immediately.

"Well, you should leave," he tells Jeno, both as a plea and an advice. Once the studio's lights are on, there's no coming back, he's five seconds away from watching as Jeno throws himself onto that couch. "Your company is going to be mad at you."

"You want me to leave, hyung?"

Mark crosses the room in large steps, sitting down in his designated chair. " _Yes,_ I'm done with you today. Go home and tell them I want a raise in my payment."

Jeno lets out a non-committal sound, startling Mark by how close he's standing. His fingers close elegantly around Mark's wrist as he reaches to turn on his computer, and when he's met with no resistance, Jeno smiles down at him.

"I'm not," he says. "Done with you. I'm not. I can never get enough of you, Mark hyung."

In complete silence, Mark pulls his wrist away and starts doing his work; he manages to open exactly one program before Jeno scratches the back of his neck lazily with the tips of his fingers. That shudder up Mark's spine is relentless, he watches his own arm sprinkle up with goosebumps with shame, knows that Jeno sees it too because soon enough he starts tracing random patterns on his nape, all the way from the collar of his shirt to the space behind his ear, caresses his jaw so tenderly that the touch is barely there.

He's going to die right here. This is how he's going to go, and if it isn't such a motherfucking pity for him. He brings his own hand up to touch Jeno's wrist, but the very sound of Jeno's ringtone going off at full volume makes them both jerk away.

"Shit," Jeno groans, fishing the phone from his pocket. He walks away to answer and Mark lets out a long breath, calming himself down during the entirety of Jeno's call so that when he comes back, claiming his manager is outside, his plan of skipping practice has failed, all Mark has to do is nod as a goodbye.

//

Mark is not thinking about it. He's not.

He's got shit to do – it's not just Jeno's album. It's other jobs, other demands, other things he has to worry about that aren't the fact that Jeno wants him, and it's a pretty fucked up thing to be wanted by him, Mark thinks. Jeno is everywhere now that his debut is close; he's on ads in subway stations, he's the face for a clothing brand that Mark likes, he's giving interviews in every radio, even the people back at the studio ask about him to Mark. _You hit the jackpot,_ Jinsoul once commented as she handed him a caramel latte – she was designated coffee buyer that day –, _everyone will want to work with you now._

She's not wrong. But there's something bigger than the fact that Mark's inbox will be filled to the brim like it never was before. It's the fact that Jeno is everywhere, and everybody is rooting for him, everybody is _wanting_ him, and he's here wanting Mark.

In a sense, it gives him such feeling of power that Mark feels stupid. Moron. He's a moron, too. Now he _is_ thinking about it in ways that he shouldn't – he has principles, for fuck's sake. He's not doing that even if Jeno asks pretty please with a cherry on top.

Fuck it if he's funny, good looking, smart, witty, if Mark dreams of Jeno's hands on his neck for two nights in a row. Fuck it. He knows there's no such thing as no strings attached – Mark knows Jeno is a romantic at his core because they're more alike than he thought at the beginning. It's for his own good. He's going to thank Mark in the future for it.

//

"I don't want you to flirt with me," he says rather firmly. It's through the phone, sure, but it's firm. "I'm not saying this in a teasing way or something. It was funny once, but it is not anymore. I don't see you romantically and I won't see you romantically, so, please, stop."

Jeno stays silent for an awfully long time until he says: "Sure thing, hyung."

//

Objectively speaking, it takes Jeno about two weeks to knock on his door once more after Mark gave him radio silence for the rest of that week as punishment. They're back at it like it never happened, a bit of awkwardness at the beginning but soon enough it dissipates in the air. If anything, rejecting Jeno might have brought them closer than before – Mark finds himself looking forward to letting Jeno in through the intercom, to their talks about music, to ordering pizza at 3 am, to Jeno giving his opinion on Mark's other projects. He invites Jeno to his house, once, they even watch a movie.

Mark has absolutely everything under control. He's almost finished with the album, and he's got a friend. All is good, all is nice, all is going perfectly like it should be.

//

The album is almost done now. Just two more songs. He's taking the bus to Jaemin's place late at night when the latter shoves his phone in Mark's face without a word. "Quick, look before they delete it."

At first, Mark thinks it's just another cat meme, and he's about to coo as his eyes settle on a little blurry yet recognizable picture of Jeno and a random girl in the street. Mark rolls his eyes at the caption, someone on Twitter saying how they're _too close to be just friends!!!!!_ , and he's overall so really tired of the way people handle these things on the internet, but instead of laughing like he usually does at things like these, Mark hands the phone back to Jaemin without a word and looks out of the bus' window, and Jaemin doesn't say anything else either.

Two hours later, when Mark is curled on Jaemin's couch as they try to find something to watch, he's thinking that he might be sick. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten too much fried chicken for lunch, but it's never made him sick before. Mark sighs in discomfort, trying to figure out if he's got a bad stomach, a headache, a chest pain or anything else. It's simply unrecognizable.

"I think I'm dying," he tells Jaemin. "No, seriously, I feel a little sick. I've been feeling a little sick for a while."

The latter's eyes grow the size of the moon as he drops the controller to the floor. "When did it start?

Mark shrugs. "When we were on the bus?"

Jaemin stays silent for a while. Mark stares at him. Jaemin says: "Maybe you're just jealous--"

"I'm definitely not jealous of Jeno."

"You could be a little bit, yes."

Mark could be a little bit, yes. He takes his hands to his face and groans into his palms.

//

Whatever it is that makes the country obsess over Lee Jeno, Mark fell right into it just like a fool.

//

"Last night I had a dream that we got married, hyung, can you believe that?"

Scoffing, Mark reaches for one of the napkins that Jeno's manager brought them and throws it in his direction. Whatever it is that makes the country obsess over Lee Jeno surely doesn't have to do with the way he looks stuffing his face with Chinese takeout at 1 am, thrown over Mark's couch in sweatpants that hang too low on his hips and with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a picture of carelessness that his fans don't even dream of.

He hates this. Mark, that is. He hates all of this, sauce on Jeno's shirt, the crease on his cheek from the two hour nap he took on Mark's couch, his million dollar bag thrown by Mark's feet under the desk, but most importantly he hates that he's grown used to Jeno's mismatched socked feet pushing his Canada souvenirs to the floor to the point he doesn't keep them here anymore.

It's ridiculous. Pitiful even. "My condolences," he replies at last. Which sounds weirdly genuine, which sounds a little sad, but Jeno throws his head back in laughter like he doesn't care. Mark himself clicks on yet another Youtube review of the phone he'd like to buy. He should be working. Jeno should be in his own dorm, sleeping. It happens. "I told you eating this late at night gives you nightmares. Maybe have something light like crackers and cheese for a snack next time."

But it's Jeno we're talking about — sweet, adoring Jeno who's got many sides to himself and is still very much preoccupied with Mark's opinion about him —, so he clicks his chopsticks in his direction. "Wouldn't you, though?" he asks, with a teasing grin on his lips. Would you not marry me, hyung? I heard I'm quite the catch."

It probably became something like a joke to Jeno, that phrase. Mark thinks it's funny that he thinks it's funny, and he replies: That's unlikely. Buzzfeed told me that the idol who's a perfect match for me is Haechan. I took the quiz four times just to make sure."

Jeno hums. "Fair enough."

Then Mark makes the mistake of looking back at him. There's still sauce on his shirt and on the corner of his mouth as he munches on his kung pao chicken and his eyes scan the interior of Mark's studio as if he hasn't sat here for all that time, making himself fit in the little cracks on the floor or between Mark's books on the shelf, or inside other, more hidden places he shouldn't fit in a work relationship. So, whatever, Mark has a little crush that could develop into something bigger because, yes, Mark would love Jeno if he was stupid enough to do so. It didn't take long for him to come to terms with it – if there's one thing that Mark is sure about besides the fact that he'll live and die for music, is that he'll also live and die for love. He knows it when it knocks at his door.

And Mark wants to reach out and clean his face and caress his cheek adoringly and tell him I'm sorry for everything, of course I'd marry you, Jeno, what kind of question is that. Mark could love him. He really could.

But he can't do any of that. He's not that cruel. Mark could love him but he won't. "Yeah," he echoes. "Fair enough."

//

Mark hands in the album directly to Jeno's manager. He doesn't answer any calls, but does text Jeno _good luck on your debut, you're gonna rock it,_ and then doesn't open their chat anymore. Objectively speaking, it takes two weeks for the notifications to stop.

//

Los Angeles is a lot like Mark had imagined it, except summer is unforgiving. He spends the majority of his vacations complaining about the lack of AC to Donghyuck.

"Stop being such a crybaby," is what the latter replies as he cajoles Mark into walking another block. "We'll find a restaurant soon, I swear. Just hang on."

Mark rolls his eyes, sighing. He's been dreaming of drinking a big jar of iced water and eating something that won't make him feel gross in the northamerican summer heat ever since they've left Donghyuck's loft. "I am hanging on," he replies. "Hanging onto the wish to strangle you."

Donghyuck lets out a loud laugh. All in all, moving has done him good. Mark's seen it on his Instagram stories, but in real life, he looks way more mature. Happy and mature. He's doing what he loves and he gives zero shits anymore, has found a boyfriend and makes the corniest posts about him online. Mark is happy if he's happy.

"I missed you a whole lot, did you know that?" Donghyuck asks as he reaches out to open a restaurant's doors for him, and Mark stumbles into the gelid entrance hall happily.

"I missed you, too," he replies quite fondly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come here."

Donghyuck waves it off. It's not a big deal – he's been busy too, Mark knows. As the waiter takes them to a table by the window, Mark checks his phone and realizes that Jeno's MV probably dropped already.

Mark is happy for him, too. They're talking less now that he's full into his idol duties, radio hosting, TV ads, music shows. But Mark is happy for him, quickly texts him congratulations once more before he sits down at the chair adjacent to the window.

As Donghyuck rants about what wine he'd like to order, Mark takes one more discreet look at their chat and decides against it, deleting the text. He sighs, and replies that yes, he'd like to drink white wine today, seems like a good choice.

"You look weird," Donghyuck comments. No, Donghyuck declares, and it's a question even if he didn't ask one. Mark missed him a whole lot.

"It's just my face," he replies matter-of-factly. Donghyuck laughs, he suggests for them to have the meat, and Mark agrees. All is good. He's got it under control.

//

"You did a pretty good job," Donghyuck tells him from where he's sitting at one of the stools by his kitchen's island, face too close to his notebook's screen. This loft is bigger than Seoul's was, and far less messy. Mark supposes that since he doesn't have Johnny to clean his mess, Donghyuck has learned how to be a decent human being. "The song is really good, Lee Minhyung. Have you seen the MV?"

Mark makes a non-committal sound, not looking up from his book, and only does look at him when Donghyuck sends a pencil to his head, all the way across the living room. "Asshole, what if you left me blind? Ever thought of that?"

"More than you already are?" Donghyuck snorts. "So, have you seen it or not?"

Mark hasn't. He feels weird. He does not want to think about it. He lies: "I did see it, it looks cool, Jeno's really good, are you happy?"

"Yes, I am!"

Donghyuck hits a tab in his notebook and Mark can hear the faint sound of Jeno's voice through the speakers, from the beginning, and then widens his eyes in surprise.

It's the fifth track. They made it the title song, for some reason. Mark laughs to himself as he looks for his phone in between the cushions of Donghyuck's couch and logs onto Twitter immediately, trying to see what people are thinking of it. The immediate response is, overall, good, but some people are _really_ feeling like it. _This should wing Song of the Year,_ someone tweets. _I think it might be the best debut from the past decade~ I'm happy that Jeno had a producer like Mad Dog's Mark! They've done a great job!_

They've done a great job indeed. But Mark doesn't feel anywhere near great.

//

So Jeno's debut is a big success. When Mark flies back to Seoul, the taxi ride home is filled with moments in which he looks out of the window and Jeno is here and there, random flashes of official promotion or fan ads. It's been, what, three months? He's on your already, Mark's heard.

It makes him feel a little funny, he'll give him that. Mark activates the code for his door and pushes his baggage inside – it's finally time to go back to real life. Objectively speaking, here's the most valuable thing Mark's learned ever since he had the opportunity to work with Jeno: it took about six months for him to catch feelings for real. Pop the champagne, baby. Mark Lee has done it again.

//

It's early November when Jeno's schedule ends, almost a year since he asked Mark out. He's dyed his hair twice and won many awards ever since. And Mark has produced one album and two EP's ever since. Neither of them reach out, and it's Mark's fault and it's for Jeno's own good, and they'll both learn to live with it. Life always finds a way.

//

Life really does always find a way.

Sometimes Mark can't believe himself. He tries his best to leave the convenience store as discreetly as he can in order not to be noticed by the only person in this goddamn city that would go buy vegan snacks in the middle of the night, but one of Mark's packages of extremely spicy ramen falls to the floor, and Jeno looks up from where he's crouched on aisle 5.

"Hyung," he calls. "Mark hyung."

Mark picks his ramen from the floor and stands up with his back straight."Hi," he says eloquently. He must be looking like a moron. He surely feels like one.

The latter gets up – he'd be unrecognizable if Mark didn't hold the ability to spot him anywhere now. Disposable mask, bleached hair hidden under a baseball cap, but it is Jeno, and Jeno is walking in his direction. Mark fidgets with his ecobag's strap for the entirety of the twelve seconds that it takes him to get there.

"I--" Mark starts once he's standing closer, but then looks over at the cashier. It's nothing more than a very tired looking teenager who's obviously not interested in their conversation, but Mark would simply prefer not to. "Can we talk somewhere else? My place, maybe?"

Jeno nods. Mark waits as he pays for his things and then waits in silence until they're waiting for the elevador so he can say:

"It's been a while."

"Yeah, I know," Jeno replies quietly. He's pulled the disposable mask down but the baseball cap is still there – Mark has never seen him look so good. It's pitiful, he has to look away, pretend he's suddenly interested watching as the elevator number goes down and down, but Jeno reaches out and pulls at his sleeve lightly with a hand. "Hyung, why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

Letting go of the sleeve, Jeno gestures to himself. "You never look at me. You always look away."

Bullshit. Mark has been looking at him from day one. "I am looking at you," he replies. "I've always looked at you."

Jeno purses his lips as the elevator lets out a bing!, and he reaches out to open the door for them. "Alright, so you're looking at me, but will you continue to do so?"

"What kind of question is that?" Mark frowns at his words as he hits his floor's number with a finger. "I'm pretty sure there is nothing wrong with my eyes, Jeno, if that's what you're implying."

Jeno lets out a laugh – a genuine one like many he'd let out in the past. Makes Mark feel a little better, a little more hopeful. "I know that, hyung," Jeno replies, resting his back against the mirror. "I missed your sense of humor."

Or lack of thereof. Mark watches as Jeno's breaths turn into white smoke. "I missed you," Mark tells him in a spur of courage, and then adds: "I saw your MV."

"Did you like it?"

"A lot. And you make track five the title."

At that, Jeno scratches the back of his head awkwardly. They're getting closer and closer to Mark's floor. "I really like that song," he confesses. "But it was mainly because of you. I was gonna tell you about it but, hyung, you disappeared out of nowhere. I thought I fucked up big time."

Mark nods. Jeno continues: "I got really mad at you because of that."

Mark nods again and the elevator's doors open, he steps outside and Jeno follows him. "

"I didn't want you to get hurt," Mark tries to explain and, for some reason, he stays grounded to this spot in the middle of the entrance hall for the apartments on his floor. "I've been there before, you know. Falling in love with an idol and in the end we were just a mess. I just wanted to protect you from that."

Jeno takes a deep breath, then exhales it, and then takes one step forward. They're standing so close now, he hasn't seen Jeno for _months_ , it doesn't even seem real. "It sucked for me," Jeno replies. "You can't simply shut people out for, you know, feeling stuff for you. You couldn't simply just decide it for me. It's not how it's supposed to go."

"How is it supposed to go, then?"

"Well, I don't know, the point is finding out, right? Together. If you want to. But if you don't, that's alright, I totally under--"

Something inside Mark's chest is untied at that very moment, making him breathe easier. "I do," Mark confesses. "I do want to find out. Let's find out."

Jeno stays silent for a while, and for a split second Mark thinks that he's going to take his words back, but he doesn't. "Let's find out, then."

//

"So, just to make sure, you left the country because you didn't know what to do with me?"

"I didn't know what to do with my feelings."

"Sounds like a very 'you' thing to do, hyung."

"Will you ever shut up? Mark asks, and it's a genuine question, one that Jeno surely heard before. From him especially. This time, although, he presses his hand to Jeno's cheek and thumbs at his cheekbone. "Will you ever, ever shut the everloving fuck up, please?"

Jeno smiles at him goofily. He's left the baseball cap in Mark's couch alongside with his bag, and now he's stumbling onto Mark's like he doesn't know what to do with himself. "Since hyung asked so nicely," he jokes, and Mark's eyes roll to the back of his head before he eventually pulls Jeno closer and presses his lips to his.

//

" _So that's how it is?_ " Donghyuck practically screeches through the phone. " _We talk on the phone every week and you casually forget to mention that you're seeing Jeno for, let me see, a month? I see how things are with you now, Minhyung. You truly don't care about the blood pact we made as teenagers anymore, so why should I care about your friendship?"_

"I'm pretty sure that didn't count because you were too afraid to touch my hand, and if the blood isn't mixed, it doesn't count," Mark points out. Jeno looks at him frowning from the other side of the couch, and Mark laughs softly as he puts the call on speakers. "Hey, it's on speakers. And, um, it's actually a pretty recent thing when you stop to think about it. We're taking things slow, you know. So don't get too mad."

" _Neither of you know how to take things slow, I am still very mad._ "

Jeno lets out a laugh as Mark sighs: "I'm sorry, I guess."

Donghyuck stays silent for a while, and then hums.

" _I suppose I need to forgive you because, after all, I was the one to bring you two together. So, you're welcome, people. Haechan's Cupid Services' chance of success is 100%! Tell all your friends about it,"_

Mark and Jeno share a look before saying: "You didn't do shit, Donghyuck."

" _I did whether you like it or not, I won't discuss fate with you pricks--"_

//

Whatever it is that makes the country obsess over Lee Jeno surely doesn't have to do with the way he looks after Mark kisses him.

Call him selfish for all he cares, but that's a sight meant for Mark as he props himself up on one elbow, looking down at Jeno sprawled out on the bed, bruised lips and blown pupils as his reddened cheeks slowly go back to normal. They've gotten rid of the shirts and Mark's pants at some point, Jeno grinning from underneath him. It's a sight, it really is. He's always wearing that stupid grin, but this time it's dedicated to Mark only. Feels better than any kind of award.

"What are you looking at?" Jeno asks in a whine, fake-bothered by the attention, he turns around until his cheek is pressed against the mattress, absentmindedly rolling his helix piercing in between his fingers. He didn't have it before. "I sense the same old judgement."

"I won't judge you anymore. Not as frequently, no. And stop tugging at your piercing, it'll get infected. Christ."

Jeno drops the hand, pokes at Mark's biceps with one long finger. "See, judgement."

"It's _not_ judgement," Mark replies, although he wants to say _I'm taking care of you, that's all,_ but Jeno is often oblivious to people doing things for him and not wanting anything in return. Instead of arguing, He settles for taking Jeno's hand in his and holding it pressed to his chest. "I was just looking at you. I haven't looked at your face in a while, at least not at the right size. Did you know there's a billboard in my street with your face on it, and that it's bigger than my house?"

Jeno scrunches his nose, in deep thought. "I'm sure that tone means you love that ad."

"Oh, surely," he chuckles. "So, can I look at you a little more, then?"

Shaking his head negatively, Jeno frees his hand from Mark's hold to curl it on the back of his neck, pulling him down. "No looking, just kissing for now."

Mark can't say he's above making out. If he could, he'd be here all day, all week long, making up for the time they've lost. He can't help but let his hands wander through Jeno's body, his waist, his thighs, finding out the right spots to get him squirmy, laughing against his lips. Mark likes it here, he realizes, his body likes it too. And when Jeno flips them over, presses a single peck to his lips and then gets up from the bed, he can't help the embarrassing whine that leaves his mouth. "Aw, _come on,_ Jeno, I'm--"

"Stop complaining," Jeno laughs, and Mark sits up in time to watch as Jeno shrugs off his pants and briefs in one swift motion and then crawls back onto bed for him, pulling at the waistband of his underwear.

Mark almost, _almost_ feels bad for wanting to touch him. Because this is Jeno and Mark wants to get his hands on him and break him down into tiny pieces, he's been wanting to do that for a long time. He wants to possibly try and see what Jeno's really made of because someone like this is not something that exists in Mark's life. He laughs to himself silently when Jeno settles on his lap again, eyebrows furrowed, bringing both hands to Mark's face to ask: "Everything alright?"

"You're beautiful," he replies, which means nothing's alright and everything is at the same time.

Jeno smiles as he brushes a thumb against his bottom lip. Mark can tell he's shy, not so witty and talkative for once, but he himself isn't in a better situation, glad that Jeno closes his eyes when Mark wraps a hand around both of them, won't be able to notice the way Mark looks at him.

//

Mark is… A fool.

That's all he is, simply. A fool. The biggest of them and for many reasons, so many that he can't help tugging at his own hair once he steps inside the bathroom and locks himself there. His reflection in the mirror tells him that: you're a total moron in love, Mark Lee. It's practically written in his face, he notices as he brushes his teeht.

In the bedroom, an alarm he doesn't recognize goes off, followed by a loud groan, and Mark stays very still as he wonders if Jeno is going to get up and leave for work, maybe an early interview or something like that. Is this how it's going to be?

But Mark doesn't want that. He doesn't want Jeno or even himself to walk out of this moment so easily — he wants to find Jeno still on his bed when he leaves the shower, he wants to slide under the covers and press his body to his once more, to wrap his arms around Jeno's torso and pull him closer, because now that he knows what it's like, he's not letting him go that easily.

God. Mark really needs to stop. He's such a fool, and Jeno is going to leave for work, he has to deal with it. It's for the best. Mark sighs, opening the faucet to let the water warm up.

He takes the longest shower known to humanity, stays under the water until his fingertips are wrinkled and his head is clear of Jeno-related thoughts.

Twenty minutes later, Mark opens the door to his room. He's met with Jeno still dead to the world on his bed, kilometers of skin from one shoulder to the other, and Mark has to physically stop himself from letting out a scream.

Alright. Alright. It's fine, it's perfect, it's just peachy. He watches as Jeno lets out a long breath, face pressed to Mark's pillow.

He looks so... _Good._ Good in the sense that, hell, he's a sight — he's such a beautiful thing, Mark knows, he's always been —, but he also looks so relaxed. Like all that tension has been lifted from his shoulders, sighing in his sleep, pillows leaving creases on his cheek.

Mark breathes in, rubbing at his face before quietly reaching for his dresser in search of clean underwear — maybe if he dresses up really quickly, he can leave the room without being noticed, maybe get some breakfast. But his drawer makes a screeching sound as he pulls at it, and Mark _listens_ as Jeno starts moving on the bed, releasing a soft sigh as he wakes up.

Turning his back to him, Mark pretends he didn't notice. His heart beats so loud that it hurts him. As Mark slides inside a pair of underwear, he's sure that Jeno is back to his slumber, but his voice calls out groggily: "Are you going to come back here?"

Mark breathes out, cautious: "Do you want me to?"

Not even a beat of silence: "Yes."

So Mark can let himself be a fool sometimes, just for the sake of it. It's not like Jeno, being Jeno, would mind him giving in to that foolishness. With no self respect whatsoever, Mark crosses the room and gently pulls at the blanket wrapped around Jeno's waist, and without ceremony slides under them.

Jeno stares sheepishly at him, face partially hidden by his arm before he rolls on his side, back pressing to Mark's chest. It feels like a fever dream to be throwing his arm around Jeno's torso, holding him close, but Mark likes it here — he wants to be here, somewhere hidden from the outer world, every inch of Jeno's body pressed to his. Mark wants it, yearns for it even, it's pitiful. He presses his face to the space between Jeno's shoulders, miles and miles of warm skin from one to the other, and he breathes in and lets himself be lured back to sleep.

He'll happily deal with it after they wake up.

//

Mark gets it. He really does understand it, finally. Whatever it is that makes the country obsess over Lee Jeno, it's not something he was ever immune to.

**Author's Note:**

> heartache trivia: jeno wins aoty (album of the year) and toty (twink of the year) like a champ


End file.
